


Nonresponse Bias

by Suspicious_Popsicle



Series: Trouble in a Black Hoodie [4]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluri, M/M, occupation bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suspicious_Popsicle/pseuds/Suspicious_Popsicle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Nonresponse Bias

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The characters in this story are from Tales of Vesperia and do not belong to me.

Buses arrived at the campus every fifteen minutes or so, which meant that Yuri’s only excuse for being late to class was oversleeping. After only having been dating for two weeks, Flynn was comfortable enough to catch an earlier bus to his apartment in order to be sure that he was up and ready to go on time. If doing so meant he got to spend some extra time with Yuri and possibly catch a glimpse of him in something a bit more revealing than his black hoodie and a pair of jeans, well…those were just little perks.

Standing outside the door to Yuri’s apartment, Flynn called his cell. He’d met Judy, Yuri’s roommate, a few times and knew that her schedule was erratic. Rather than knocking and risking disturbing her should she be home, he usually just called. It didn’t really have anything to do with the way hearing Yuri’s voice still thick with sleep sent tingles straight through him. The phone was still ringing when Judy opened the door. She smiled at him and Flynn had to admit that she looked _much_ better in the powder blue hoodie than Yuri did.

“Hang that up and come on in,” she said, stepping aside. “He’s pulling himself together.”

There was a drawn out groan from down the hall and Flynn pocketed his phone, thanked Judy, and went to go rouse his rather unorthodox sleeping beauty.

Whether intentionally or not, Yuri had slipped halfway off his bed. His head and arms rested on the floor, while his legs remained tangled in the sheets. The tank top he had slept in had fallen nearly to his shoulder blades. His phone remained just out of reach, lying next to a small stack of games. Flynn picked his way past dirty clothes, scattered change, and discarded papers to squat next to Yuri. He reached out and rested a hand on his bare back, pinky just touching the waistband of his boxers.

“Good morning. Time to get up.”

“’Morning.”

Yuri’s voice was a sleepy grumble, making Flynn want to sit down, pull him into his lap, and kiss all along his neck, to feel that rumble against his tongue. He bit his lip and tried to put the thought away as he rubbed gently over the dip of Yuri’s spine.

“Mmm. Hands’re warm.”

Shifting made the cheap, metal bedframe creak and pop alarmingly, but it held. Yuri let himself slide all the way to the floor, rolling onto his back as he did so that he wound up lying there looking up at Flynn. He yawned and smiled and blinked sleepily, reaching out to catch the end of Flynn’s coat sleeve in clumsy fingers.

“Hey,” he said, and the heat and roughness in his voice, his half lidded eyes and crooked smile made it an invitation. Flynn swallowed hard, and stood up.

“Come on. We need to get moving so we don’t miss the bus.”

Since Flynn had begun coming to pick him up, Yuri hadn’t once been late to class. He might not care about his own punctuality, but he got his act together pretty fast when Flynn’s reputation was on the line. It was…sort of sweet, actually. He left Yuri to get dressed in private, and went out to wait on the couch in the living room. Judy was sitting there already with her laptop balanced on her knees.

“He must like you an awful lot,” she said. “There were barely any swears in his grumbling when you called.”

Not sure what to say to that, Flynn ducked his head until he was certain he had his expression under control. He checked his watch and called out a five-minute warning to Yuri.

“Working on it!”

A door opened and shut. Water hissed and splashed in the bathroom. It wasn’t long before Yuri emerged, looking more his usual self if not entirely awake yet. Standing up, Flynn resettled the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder. Yuri kissed him on the cheek as he passed by, which Judy politely pretended not to notice, and then they were off.

They made it down on time, if only just barely, and sat together in the back of the bus. Yuri yawned again, and Flynn took a minute to get a good look at him. There were bags under his eyes and he looked exhausted.

“Are you all right?”

“Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Were you studying for the quiz today?” He knew the answer before he asked, and frowned when Yuri shook his head.

“Work.”

“You shouldn’t be letting it get in the way of your education. There must be another job you could—”

“Can we talk about this later?”

Without waiting for an answer, he slumped over to rest his head on Flynn’s shoulder. There was no hesitation, no concern over social censure. Flynn very nearly shrugged him off, knowing that there would be some other excuse later, but when their hands bumped against each other and Yuri immediately latched on and twined their fingers together, he found that he didn’t have the heart.

“Thanks,” Yuri mumbled, relaxing along with him back against the seat.

“Go to sleep.” He murmured the words resignedly, amused and annoyed, but mostly warm and cozy and almost wishing that he could drift off as well.

\---------------

They had a date on Saturday. Yuri was supposed to be meeting him at eleven just outside the park. Flynn waited anxiously next to a bench, too keyed up to sit down. He was early, but he still kept glancing down the street every so often, eager to catch a glimpse of the bus Yuri would be taking. It was only their third actual date. He hoped it would go well.

Lately, he’d been thinking more and more about Yuri’s job. The postponed conversation from the bus ride Friday had simply been one more missed chance to discuss it. While Yuri was as taciturn as ever, Flynn was finding that, just as his musing brain had suspected, the thought of Yuri working as a stripper was increasingly bothersome now that they were an item.

Oh, he still had that persistent doubt that what Yuri considered an acceptable job was none of his business, but at the same time, he was sure that it wasn’t unreasonable to not want his boyfriend flaunting his body to strangers. It was only a job, and he trusted that Yuri was faithful—trusted him as much as he could trust someone he had only known for three months, but that was a whole other set of doubts and uncertainties that he _really_ wanted to keep a lid on—but surely, given the circumstances, it wouldn’t be asking too much for them to at least sit down and talk about it. Yuri was so tightlipped that Flynn didn’t even know the name of the club he worked at.

Not that he would go there. Probably not, anyway. It would be a really bad idea for him to show up where Yuri worked.

He tried to stop thinking about it. He tried to tell himself that Yuri would relent and at least agree to discuss the situation. That was all Flynn was asking: just that Yuri allow them to talk about it and decide what it meant for them. It wasn’t…. Flynn didn’t want something like that to be a deal breaker—he liked Yuri more and more, was amazed at how quickly he was looking at the relationship as something serious—but ignoring it was going to create a rift between them. Secrecy bred suspicion, and not even the best intentioned of men was always immune.

But…there _was_ that other part of his mind. The terribly irresponsible, highly inappropriate, undeniably _intrigued_ part of his mind. The part of his mind that took what he’d seen of Yuri—how he moved, how he smirked, how he looked those few mornings Flynn had caught a glimpse of him only partially dressed—took those teasing hints and spun them all together, added to them, dressed them up with expectation and fantasy, and suggested to him that perhaps having a stripper for a boyfriend was something he ought to be enjoying a bit more. It was completely selfish, but he was unable to banish the interest. He wondered if he would be able to overcome his embarrassment someday and ask for a peek at the side of Yuri he hadn’t yet been privy to.

They would talk about it Monday, he decided. After psych statistics, he would convince Yuri to leave campus with him—Yuri didn’t have another class that day until much later, anyway—and they’d go somewhere private where they could talk. It wasn’t really that big a deal, he told himself. It was only all their avoidance of the subject that made it seem like some looming problem. He could think things over on Sunday, they could have their talk on Monday, and everything would be fine.

Finally, Yuri arrived, interrupting his thoughts. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t bothered to dress up, but the grin that lit up his face as soon as he spotted Flynn more than made up for it. There hadn’t been many people in his life that had smiled at him like that, and he hoped he looked the same to Yuri. He felt like he must.

“Hey.”

Yuri was wide awake, enough to greet him with a wave rather than a kiss. He was more affectionate when he was sleepy, and Flynn felt a moment’s brief regret. Watching Yuri’s hand as it fell to his side, he noticed a large Band-Aid stretched over the skin between thumb and index finger. It probably covered an injury from working in the kitchen—he’d learned that Yuri was a surprisingly good cook—and he asked after it as they walked into the park.

“What happened to your hand?”

He glanced at the bandage as if having forgotten he’d hurt himself, then shrugged. “Some asshole tried to mug me on my way home from work.”

Flynn stopped in his tracks, as taken aback by Yuri’s calm admission as the actual explanation. “ _What_? Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Tiniest knife I’ve ever seen.” He held finger and thumb a few inches apart, grinning like it was funny.

“Did you go to the hospital? Call the police?”

“Hell, no. It was just a kid with a penknife. Probably did it on a dare. He wouldn’t even have nicked me if I hadn’t grabbed it out of his hand.” He glanced at Flynn and saw something in his expression that made him hunch his shoulders and shove his hands down into the pockets of his hoodie. “Damn,” he muttered. “If I’d known you were going to freak out about it, I’d’ve worn gloves today.”

“I am _not_ freaking out. I’m legitimately concerned because my _boyfriend_ just told me he was _mugged_!”

A few tense seconds passed while Flynn tried to calm down and Yuri waited for him to collect himself. He took a deep breath, pushing his hair back out of his face, and came to a decision.

“Where do you work? Give me the name of the place and your schedule. I’ll come pick you up from now on.”

Yuri looked at him as if he’d gone crazy. “No way. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I’m not babysitting you; it’s a sensible precaution. You aren’t exactly intimidating.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you look like a target. That idiot who attacked you probably saw your hair and thought you were a woman.”

“I can take care of myself, Flynn.” Yuri’s voice was tight, but Flynn ignored the warning.

“You sure as hell don’t look it!”

Yuri decked him, punched him right in the face, and sent him sprawling to the pavement. He loomed over Flynn for several long seconds, seething, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

“Fuck you,” he said finally.

He turned on his heel and stormed off. Flynn watched him go, tasting blood and scrabbling to figure out exactly where everything had gone wrong.


End file.
